Unclothed Nocturnal Manuscript Crisis
by clever.tricks
Summary: Jon plunges his hand into a lucky dip of horrible surprises.


_A/N: Written for goldenlake SMACKDOWN, 2011. __This fic was inspired by and named after the jazzy Bellowhead number._

_"Gary? Gary? Sir Gareth, are you quite with us?" If they hadn't been in a meeting with half a dozen stiff lipped nobles, Jon would have flapped his papers in Gary's face to rouse him._

_"What?"_

_"I asked, have you got next year's agricultural projections?"_

_"Have I got – yes, of course. Right…uuhhh, here." He handed them over._

_"Thank you."_

* * *

><p>Gary looked up from his paperwork, and was startled to see Raoul lounging in one of his office chairs, watching him. "Mithros! How long have you been there?"<p>

"A while. I thought you'd notice sooner than you did."

"What have you been doing?"

"Nothing. Just waiting. I tried looking over some of your papers but they nearly put me to sleep, and I didn't want to disturb you." Raoul was loud when he slept. He didn't snore. He shouted, he talked to his fallen men, or those he himself had killed. He cried, sometimes.

"Which papers?"

"Those ones - errr," he picked one up and peered at the title before tossing it back on the desk, "Next year's agricultural forecast."

"Hey, don't just fling that anywhere. I have a system, you know!"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to throw off your delicate equilibrium." Even as he teased, Raoul retrieved the documents and placed them carefully where he had found them.

"And they're not boring. Don't you want to know how we'll be faring in a years' time?"

"Sometimes it's better to take things as they come."

"But if you have a strategy to begin with –"

"It usually falls apart when the time comes to put it into action."

"_No_, you have a better chance of pulling through, even if everything does go to hell. You don't go into battle unprepared."

"We don't always have a chance to prepare. What are you still doing here? It's well past midnight."

"You're changing the topic because you know I'm right."

"I know that report is important, as long as I don't have to read it. And I'm changing the topic because I'm concerned. You work too much."

"Only because there's so much work to do," Gary shrugged.

"You have assistants."

"Those idiots! Dropped on their heads, every last one of them, I'm sure of it."

"Yes, _by you_, because you're too scared of letting them do anything."

"Because they don't do it properly."

"What about – what's his name – that one with the freckles? He seems to know what he's doing."

"Geraint? Far too big for his britches, that one."

"Trying to do his job does not equate to being uppity, Gary. He seems very polite and _capable_. Now come on, it's well past our bedtime." He got up to leave, but Gary remained seated.

"Raoul, I can't. There's too much to finish up here before I can sleep."

"Fine then, we won't sleep." This gave Gary pause, but finally he picked up his quill.

"Sorry, I'm too busy. I have a meeting with Jon tomorrow and – what are you doing?" Raoul had casually lifted the sheaf he had placed so carefully mere minutes before. It now dangled between his thumb and forefinger.

"Just teaching you to take a break every once in a while."

"What? What are you – don't you dare!" But it was too late. Raoul had released the papers, which fluttered to the floor in no discernable order. Gary sprang to his feet, "You're lucky I numbered the pages you bastard, or I'd kick you so hard you'd land in Port Caynn!"

"This may seem bad now, but you'll thank me later." Raoul reached across the desk and pulled Gary's face hard to his own, kissing him fiercely. "You helped me when I was an alcoholic, Gary, now let me prevent you from beaming a workaholic."

"Don't be absurd…" Raoul kissed him again. "Hardly the same thing…" And again, leaving Gary with no defence. Raoul's kisses always left him weak. Raoul selected a hefty sheaf and handed it to Gary.

"Drop it."

"These are _important_documents."

"Not as important as you are."

"You're overreacting."

"Maybe so, but it's only because I care about you."

"You're crazy."

"Love does that."

"You're just randy."

Raoul laughed, "There's no denying _that_. Gary bent and placed the stack on the floor, careful to preserve its integrity. "I think not." Raoul handed him another sheaf, and kissed him again for encouragement. Gary let go. The sheaf, a heavy one, dropped to the ground, papers dispersing like water at the bottom of a waterfall. "Well done."

"Alright. Satisfied?"

"Not quite. I'd like to kiss you again, but I can't reach over this desk."

"You've kissed me four times over my desk in the last few minutes."

I'm sorry, I just can't get close enough."

"Come around here, then."

"Oh no, that won't do. This desk is just too big."

"Alright, I'll come over there."

"No, no, that won't do…"

Gary narrowed his eyes, "What are you getting at?" Raoul bit his smiling lip, reached out a breezy hand and batted an abacus right off the desk. It landed with a clatter and scraped a few feet across the floor. Gary's jaw dropped.

"They don't call you a desk-riding knight for nothing."

"You can't be serious." Raoul grinned his wickedest grin and undid a few of his buttons. "Good Gods, you _are_serious." Raoul removed his shirt. "Alright, but not here. My office is sacred!" Raoul stopped undoing his breeches and looked Gary straight in the eye. Gary knew he had hurt his feelings. "I mean – our bed is sacred too."

"Not _our_ bed, Gary. _My_ bed. We always do it in my rooms. I want to do this is in _your_room, just once."

"My wife – "

"_Here_, Gary."

Gary looked down at his desk top, the tidiest one in the palace, he knew for a fact. "Okay. You do it. I can't watch." He covered his eyes.

"No, _you_do it." Raoul's calloused hands gently took Gary's – soft except for the one callous where his quill rubbed against his finger – and drew them from his eyes. They looked at each other for a moment , then Gary took a deep breath, steeling himself. In one foul swoop he rid the desk of its burden. The paper seemed to swirl around them before drifting to the floor, like snow. Raoul began a cheer but it was cut off immediately as Gary rendered him silent and pulled him onto the desk.

* * *

><p><em>Jon moved the meeting along to the next topic of discussion. He turned to Gary, but seeing that the Prime Minister had clearly drifted off again – his eyes were open, yet uncharacteristically blank – Jon picked up a pouch of battered scrolls and began to sort through them. He drew one out and stared for but a moment, before going on with the meeting. He did wonder why the thing was so extremely dented, but chose to say nothing.<em>

* * *

><p>"You were never bad with a sword, if only you'd practice more."<p>

Gary raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I didn't mean – you're quite proficient with _that_sword, though I'm not opposed to helping you practice with it. I'm talking about a proper fighting weapon. Stop waggling your eyebrows, you cad!"

"But you say such dreadful things! If anyone's a cad here, it's you."

"Oh, hush. You know what I'm talking about and it's not you genitalia."

"That makes a change."

"Yes, well, be that as it may…I'm happy you found work you love, but don't you ever think about getting out where the action is?"

"I like this work. Why can't you accept that?"

"I can. I do! I suppose, sometimes, when I'm out there, in a fight, with all that blood and desolation…"

"You were made for all that."

"Yes, I was. But that doesn't make it easy. And if you were there-"

"It still wouldn't be easy."

"It would be a comfort. I miss you, when I'm gone."

"And if I followed you, you'd be sick of me. Better for me to stay here; you'll never get the chance to realise what an obnoxious dullard I am."

"Oh, I've known that for years, but the sex is too good, so I put up with it."

"I _think_there was a compliment hidden somewhere in that insult."

"Don't look too hard, you'll strain your eyes."

"Speaking of insults, I'm offended at your insinuation that my fencing skills are lacking. I'll have you know, I'm an excellent swordsman!"

"Gary, I don't want to hurt your feeling, but –"

"I'll prove it. I challenge you to a duel!"

"What?"

"A swordfight. Right here, right now."

"Sorry, I don't think I'm quite ready for another round yet."

"Not _that_." Gary got up and rummaged through a lumpy pouch which sat on a shelf among his many books. He drew out two tightly furled scrolls and brandished them. "A duel!"

Raoul shook his head. "I'll win." Gary thwacked him over the head with a scroll. "Ow! Oh, you bastard!" Raoul grabbed his weapon and leapt from where he had lain on Gary's desk, "I'll get you back for that!"

* * *

><p><em>Jon tapped his stack of papers on the table top, to neaten them. Some of the papers didn't seem to want to cooperate. Jon leafed through and was surprised to see that many were severely rumpled. He ran a firm hand over one to smooth it, to no avail. He glanced at Gary: there were dark circles under his eyes. He didn't appear to have slept. Jon continued the meeting, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Gary cover his mouth with a hand, and stifle a yawn.<em>

* * *

><p>Raoul lunged, but Gary sidestepped and gracefully – more gracefully that Raoul would have expected – swung his scroll to strike Raoul's unprotected midriff. Raoul blocked just in time, then spun and swept a slicing cut toward Gary's chest. He missed as Gary stepped back, knocking Raoul's scroll out of the way and swiftly thrusting with his own. They thrust and parried, struck and evaded until Gary, hastily dodging one of Raoul's strikes, fell crashing to the floor, made slippery by its new carpet of loose papers. Seizing his opportunity, Raoul straddled Gary and poised the tip of his scroll at Gary's throat. "Victory!" He grinned. But Gary simply grabbed the scroll, wrenched it out of Raoul's hand and flung it across the room. "Hey –" Raoul's objections were stifled, however, when Gary pulled his head down for a savage kiss. Raoul's hand curled involuntarily, catching and crumpling a stray piece of paper. When Gary finally released him, Raoul spluttered, "You cheat!"<p>

"Who, me?" Gary widened his eyes.

"If that had been a real sword, you'd have cut your hand open!"

"Ah, but paper can't hurt me. I'm touched you're so concerned about my safety."

"I'll give you touched –"

"Ooh, please do!" Gary pulled him down for another kiss, but Raoul wrenched free and lobbed the only thing he held - his scrunched up piece of paper - into Gary's face. They were still for a moment as Gary pursed his lips and raised a sardonic eyebrow. Then Raoul suddenly leapt to his feet, grabbing every bit of paper he could, hastily scrunching them and pelting Gary in a flurry of guffaws and mounting arousal. Gary stood up and started batting the things away before they hit him. Laughing, Raoul ran, tossing balled up paper blindly behind him. "You'd better run, Goldenlake! When I get my hands on you –!" Raoul only laughed harder, but he was running out of ammunition. When his arms were empty, he bent over to restock. "Big mistake!" Gary grinned as he caught up and smacked his scroll right across Raoul's exposed buttocks. Raoul yelped, and waggled him bottom in the air.

"Do that again!"

"Hey, we're supposed to be duelling here!"

"Yeah, but that felt pretty good."

"Really? Well, in that case…" Gary aimed a few more wallops. "Alright, cur, you're enjoying this far too much! Turn around and face me like a man!"

"I thought that's what I _was_doing," Raoul smirked, but he whipped round to face his opponent, who was dismayed to find himself stabbed in the leg in what he considered a sneak attack.

"Hey! Foul! You struck below the belt!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes you did, you stabbed me in the leg!"

"I haven't got a scroll anymore, remember?" Raoul held up his empty hands.

"But I felt -" They looked down. "Oh, alright. I give up," Gary said, "Feel free to impale me."

"You surrender too easily," Raoul growled, "These scrolls of yours are more fun than I thought."

* * *

><p><em>Some of the documents Jon required - usually sorted, bound and neatly stacked – had been shoved haphazardly into a leather bag usually used to carry quills, ink sticks and administrative detritus. He sorted through the jumble until he came across a somewhat damp piece and unfolded it. "EUARGH!" Everyone looked up in surprise at Jon's ejaculation of horrified disgust. Gary peered over to see what Jon had seen and was aghast to see a blob of something viscous and gummy, stuck to the piece of vellum he held. In panic, he snatched the document from Jon and stuffed it into his pocket.<em>

_"Sir Gareth?" was all Jon could manage._

_"Your majesty. Please accept my apologies. I've, uh, had a cold lately. I'm afraid I had a bit of a sneezing fit this morning and…well, I'm deeply sorry." He hurriedly coughed a few times._

_"In the future, Gary, please refrain from using royal documents in place of handkerchiefs."_

_"Of course, your highness." Jon hesitated before he reached back into that bag. "Jon, please allow me," Gary grabbed the bag and rifled through it, aware that every pair of eyes was on him. Finding what he was looking for, he examined it as best he could and handed it to Jon. As the meeting proceeded, Gary discreetly groped through the bag under the table and removed five or six soiled papers._

* * *

><p>They lay entangled on the floor, one inside the other. Gary stroked Raoul's hair with a bittersweet smile; when he watched Raoul sleep, he was filled with a longing irrespective of physical proximity. Raoul was haunted. Gary had escaped that when he picked the life of an administrator. Though the memories of his only war reared at unexpected moments, catching him when he was least protected, he seldom bore witness to violence these days. Raoul had never escaped. He had chosen violence and it clung to him, turning dreams into terrors worse than the real thing. Raoul's eyelids fluttered, but he was smiling. With a vague sigh, he opened his eyes, "Mmmmm, that's nice." As Gary's strained expression faded into relief, Raoul understood. "Don't worry, you won't have to lick the salt from my cheeks tonight."<p>

"I wasn't worried."

"Your tender touch has had a healing influence," Raoul said before Gary's lips came to meet him in the softest kiss of the night. When they parted, Gary tweaked Raoul's nose.

"I won't have to blow your nose like your village healing woman used to do?"

"No, but you can blow me elsewhere if you like."

"I hope your healer didn't used to do _that!_"

"Sadly not. She'd just toss me a handkerchief and tell me to sort myself out."

"Ah, such is the life of a lonely young man. Rest assured you don't have to worry about that when I'm around."

"You _say_that, but I made my request over a minute ago and you haven't even moved. I expect prompt service at all times, Gareth!"

"Ah, my apologies your lordship, but I have no handkerchief with me."

"I'm sure you can find an appropriate substitute." Gary peered innocently around the paper-strewn office. "Let me give you a hint, Gary: your open mouth will be quite suitable." Gary grinned wolfishly, showing all his teeth. "Please don't do that. You make me nervous." Gary wetted his lips with his outrageous tongue and was satisfied when Raoul could only respond with incomprehensible desire. He pulled Raoul to his feet.

"This floor is freezing. You can sit on my chair." But the first step Gary took, he trod on something wet and sticky. He lifted his foot and found that a bit of paper came with it. He pulled it away and squinted at the paper, then his foot. "What -? Oh, _no_."

"What's – ah. Well, no problem, we can transcribe that report onto a new piece of paper."

Gary looked relieved, "Yes. Yes, that's easily done. But that can wait until after – oh, gods!"

"What?'

"There's more - look!"

"And over there, too. I didn't realise we were so messy."

"Mithros, how did it get up _there?_

* * *

><p><em>Jon shuffled through his final sheaf, keen to bring this meeting to a close as quickly as possible. He found his page, but was having difficulty making out its contents. The ink had been smudged, and though Jon could read some of the words, others were so fuzzy they were barely recognisable as Gary's fastidious script. He studied the page and made an earnest attempt to proceed, "It is noteworthy that King Ain is no longer, uh, sitting on carrots? What? Gary, I can't read this at all." Gary glanced over and seemed to smile, though he tried not to.<em>

_"I'm sorry, let me have a look at that."_

_"No, I think we had better finish up here. Gary, can you re-write this and submit it to me this evening?"_

_"Yes, of course, Jon."_

_"Good. You'll be able to find me in my rooms from sunset onwards. Thank you, everyone, that's everything for today. I'll see you all next week." With much scraping of chairs, bowing and "your highness"ing, the meeting was ended. Gary rushed out in relief. When he got back to his office and saw that Raoul had cleaned the whole room up, he felt like crying._

* * *

><p>Gary jolted awake at the sensation of hot sunlight on his face. What time was it? His nap and been brief – he had watched the sun rise with Raoul – and he was groggy. Raoul was sitting, slumped over so his cheek rested on Gary's desk, and drooling slightly on a rather important document. Gary was in a similar position, a quill loosely cradled in his hand. They must have fallen asleep as they rewrote the reports they had ruined. "Raoul, wake up." Gary shook him.<p>

"Mmffrf."

"_Wake up_. It's morning, and we didn't finish the copying.

"Mrrurfl… noooo…"

"_Yes._I have a meeting at noon, and –" the noon bell rang through the city, making them jump and waking Raoul up once and for all.

"Did you say _noon_?" Struck with panic, they could only stare around the room. It resembled the aftermath of a mage-blast, or a very playful evening. Then they hurried to action. Gary shovelled a handful of papers into the bag Raoul tossed him. Then Raoul remembered they were undressed. "You get dressed and I'll do this." Gary looked around for his clothes and seized the first he could find of each item: his own tunic; Raoul's breeches; he had no time to figure out whose shirt was whose. "Your tunic's on backwards and you've got ink all over your cheek." Gary tried to turn the tunic around without taking it fully off, which resulted in a tangle and temporary blindness as it constricted around his head. Raoul couldn't help a smile as he tugged the tunic down the right way and licked his finger to rub the smudge off Gary's cheek.

"No time, no time! Pick up those scrolls!" Gary whirled around the room, collecting all the documents he could see and ordering them as best he could manage, in the few seconds he could spare to do so. That was everything, he thought, except – "Have you seen a report about Tusaine? I don't think I've seen it and it's important."

"No, I don't think I have. Maybe it's under the desk." Raoul turned to look, and now it was Gary who stopped to smile as he spotted the report clinging to Raoul's bare bottom. Gary plucked it, causing Raoul to look round in surprise.

"Found it."

"So I see."

"Look, it's all smudged."

"Sorry, I must have sat on it. I did work up quite a sweat in that chair of yours." They stood for a moment, reminiscing, until Raoul snapped back to the present. "You're late! Go, go!"

Gary had his hand on the door handle when he looked back at his lover, smiling and naked, seeing him off. He rushed back to kiss him goodbye, hug him tight, and give his arse a hearty squeeze, before hurtling from the room, rushing through the palace in as dignified a manner as he could, and arriving late at the meeting, hair mussed, moustache at all angles, cheeks flushed and still smudged, eyes sparkling.

* * *

><p><em>Jon answered the door, "Please come in."<em>

_"I have that report for you."_

_"Thank you. Gary, let me be frank, your performance this afternoon -"_

_"Jon, I –"_

_"I know you've been working extremely hard of late, and I'm concerned you're getting too run down. I think you need a holiday. As of tomorrow, I want you to take a few weeks of rest."_

_"Jon –"_

_"No, don't bother arguing. I've already arranged it with your assistants, and I can't have another meeting go like that one did today."_

_Gary stared at him. "Yes. I think you're right. I do need some time off."_

_"Geraint has assured me he can manage while you're away, or do you think I should appoint someone else?"_

_"No, no, Geraint's quite capable of doing the job for a week or two. And, Jon –"_

_"Yes?"_

_"You might consider giving Raoul a rest, too. He could use a holiday. Starting tomorrow, if possible."_


End file.
